


Band-Aids and Bruises

by kassandra_divina_trevelyan



Series: Turning the Page [7]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hurt and comfort, Light Angst, Married Couple, Married Life, Patching up after a fight, married life with kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23763160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassandra_divina_trevelyan/pseuds/kassandra_divina_trevelyan
Summary: After a particularly rough mission, Steve comes home with the promise that his wife, Helena, will be there to mend his wounds and ease his agitated soul. A little TLC and some much needed time with his kids can solve any pain from the job.*PART OF THE SOLSTICE UNIVERSE* *FEATURES ORIGINAL CHARACTER*
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), captain america /original female character(s)
Series: Turning the Page [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696246
Kudos: 5





	Band-Aids and Bruises

Curled up on the end of her couch with a mug of ginger and mint tea steaming in her hands, Helena Rogers tentatively sipped at her drink while she watched the baby monitor resting out on the coffee table in front of her. The small screen provided a visual of her kids, Grant and Brooklyn, who were sleeping for an afternoon nap. A small smile touched her lips when glancing between her beautiful children and the peace that settled over the house without two excitable, superpowered toddlers running around to cause some havoc.

But the empty house was quiet, and Helena sighed, clearly missing her husband. Steve and Helena, although now parents, never stopped being heroes to a world in need of saving. The newly rebuilt SHIELD still operated covert missions across the globe and the two Avengers were still agents with the agency, even after the public expose of Hydra and subsequent fall from grace. Their missions were less frequent than Natasha and Clint (to a considerable degree) with their status as spouses with children. Still, sometimes SHIELD required a superpowered solution to a problem, and that would be delegated to either Steve or Helena.

Per an agreement with Fury, only one of them could be on mission at a time so the other could be home with the kids and keeping the family together. It was a more than reasonable arrangement for Helena and Steve, but it didn’t stop them from missing each other when a mission called. 

“By the Gods, I am tired,” Helena mumbled aloud between sips of her tea and felt her eyes blink slowly, her energy sapped from wrangling the kids all morning and some news she needed to share when Steve returned from his mission. From what she knew, he was supposed to return some time that evening, but that could be late. Helena and the kids liked to greet him when he returned from a mission, a little tradition of theirs that the Rogers clan held sacred. Coming home was the mutual objective for Helena and Steve whenever called out on a mission because they had three people waiting on them, the kind they could not fail: their family. Helena considered finishing her tea and allowing herself a short nap, but that thought was cut short upon a bout of insistent knocking on the front door. Helena, not expecting visitors, gently set her half-full mug onto the coffee table and rolling herself off the couch. She jogged to the door while tugging down her cardigan self-consciously—opening the door to reveal Steve, in bad condition. 

“Helena,” Steve breathed out, his eyes clearly pained. He sported dirt and grime all over his face and suit, a shallow cut with dried blood across one of his cheeks, and a hand pressed against his side. She immediately looked for bleeding wounds but couldn’t tell with his uniform on.

“Steve, are you hurt?” She gasped out and caught him when he swayed dangerously, his forehead beaded with sweat. She tucked her shoulder underneath his arm and provided support as she escorted him over to the couch. She sat him up and noticed the way Steve protected his ribs by shielding them away from brushing against anything. 

“A little,” Steve managed through grit teeth and Helena gently ran her fingers against his ribs, hearing a hitch in his breath. The sound was so quiet that the average individual would overlook it, but Helena knew Steve. She was his wife and the one by his side in battle; it was her job to know when he was in pain like it was his to know when she was. 

“I’ll get the ice. You remove your uniform top.” Helena instructed while working on the fastenings of his Captain suit with her deft, steady hands. She learned to control her worry when it came to Steve and never allowed her emotions to overwhelm her. She moved swiftly and precisely, intending to address the cause of his pain at once. She rose from the couch and darted into the kitchen, throwing open the pantry. She pulled a small first aid kit from within the back shelf and set it on the counter, withdrawing a bottle of non-steroidal, anti-inflammatory pills to numb the pain and deal with any swelling or bruising. Helena’s next move was removing an ice bag from within the fridge and wrapping it as not to give Steve ice burns through application to bare skin. With the ice in hand and painkillers at the ready, Helena entered the living room again and made a beeline toward Steve. He needed her. 

Steve was laid out across the couch with his entire torso bared, allowing Helena to assess the damage. Her eyes widened at the bruising pattern across his rib area, noting that the discoloration marked inflammation and low oxygen supply at the site of injury. His eyes were screwed shut, and he mumbled something to himself in apparent discomfort. Helena approached the couch, avoiding tripping over his armor, and she figured she would take the end of the couch and rest Steve’s head in her lap.

“Lift your head up,” Helena gently instructed as she placed her hand along the backside of Steve’s head as a cushion. Steve pulled his head up with a slight wince, and Helena slid back onto the couch, cross-legged, and settled his head back down into her lap. Steve opened his eyes and looked up at Helena as she pressed the wrapped bag of ice against the splotches of dark red, blue, and even purple along his ribs. An involuntary hiss left his lips at the application of the cold against the sensitive bruising—a startling prick for his body. Helena frowned knowingly, and her free hand soothingly brushed his non-cut cheek. She would handle cleaning that next. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault,” Steve chuckled hoarsely, and he admired the sight of Helena leaning over him with her long, brunette tresses tumbling down from her shoulder and her eyes nurturing. She hummed a lullaby under her breath while she held the ice against the bruises, knowing the cold would calm the inflammation of the bruising. Steve nuzzled her leg and closed his eyes, letting the ice numb the area of pain. Helena pushed back his hair, which was stuck to his forehead by dried sweat. 

“What happened?” Helena whispered to him, and her heart sank when watching his expression contort into regret and some pain. She knew that the field could get quite rough and the presence of bruising suggested that Steve received some blows that might cripple a regular man. Just because he was enhanced by the serum’s effects did not mean he was immune to injury. 

“The mission went sideways; some lives were lost,” Steve mumbled distantly, which meant he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Helena nodded sympathetically at his vague explanation and she would never force an answer out of him. But she knew from his tone that the lives lost were by his hand. Neither Steve nor Helena relished in taking lives in the line of duty. The idea of killing made their stomach twist in knots and guilt settle on Helena’s shoulders. Steve, with time and being a soldier, understood that the nature of war would claim lives, but he would rather not when he could avoid tainting his hands red and slick with blood. 

“I understand,” She whispered and in those two words, Steve heard another message: don’t blame yourself for what fate cruelly put into your path. Upon glancing at his wife’s eyes, Steve saw no difference in the way she loved him. Helena loved him even when he showed his fallibility, his mortality instead of the righteous super soldier he was supposed to be. Helena resumed the soothing motion of running her fingers through his hair while she held the ice to Steve’s injuries, gradually numbing the area. Soon enough, Steve could no longer feel the sting of the bruised ribs and opened his eyes. His attention fixated on the baby monitor where faint mumbles and cries picked up through the crackling static. Grant was the first to start stirring from his nap and Steve nudged Helena lazily with his head.

“The kids are waking up. Can I see them?” Steve requested softly, needing to see them after a week away. He knew that seeing him might rile them up, and accidental exacerbations of his injuries were possible, but he hardly cared.   
“Of course. Just hold this to your side and I will try to keep them from being too rough with you.” Helena relented, pressing a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead as she helped him to a seated position on the couch. She handed him the ice and guided it to where he should press it against his skin. Helena gracefully darted up the stairs and Steve, with a soft expression, watched his wife enter the vision of the baby monitor and gently wake their children from their slumber. She picked Brooklyn up from the crib and settled the toddler on her hip. She took Grant’s hands while he wiped at his eyes and guided him from the bedroom. Steve heard the pitter-patter of bare feet against hardwood floors and glanced at the staircase for a sight of Brooklyn, Grant, or Helena. When they appeared at the top of the stairs, Grant gasped loudly, and Brooklyn squealed. 

“Daddy!” Grant exclaimed when he saw Steve, exhausted and banged-up but safely home. His little hand slipped free from Helena’s and he forged ahead to reach his dad. 

“Hey little man,” Steve smiled as his son raced down the remainder of the stairs, ignoring Helena’s warning to hold the railing, and sped toward his dad. He scrambled onto the couch and threw his arms around Steve, barely missing the section of bruising. Steve buried his face in his son’s brunette curls and closed his eyes, savoring the embrace. He missed his kids more than words could ever convey. Helena reached the bottom of the stairs with Brooklyn in her arms and reaching out for her dad.

“I missed you!” Grant whisper-yelled like what he revealed was a big secret and that made Steve burst into a full-bodied chuckle, which his ribs resented him for. He ruffled his son’s hair and watched the boy playfully stick his tongue out.

“I missed you too, buddy. Did you take good care of your sister and mom for me?” Steve asked him, feigning a serious face but barely fighting back a smile at his son’s “thinking” face.

“Yes.” Grant nodded insistently, remembering the promise that Steve asked of him before departing a week ago. Steve smiled in approval, and he accepted his daughter from Helena’s arms, bouncing her on his knee and giving her a kiss. Her giggle made Helena smile; Steve was fantastic with his kids and to them, he was their hero. Helena grabbed her mug of tea and took a few more sips before she picked up the ice pack and put it down, knowing it would be best to cycle rotations of ice on and ice off. Helena sat on the couch and she accepted Brooklyn from Steve as their daughter began getting fussy for her mother’s attention. Helena sat Brooklyn on her lap and the toddler became satiated. Helena raised her brow at Steve and a knowing glint twinkled in her eyes, which he picked up on. She knew something he didn’t. 

“How would you feel about having a third?” Helena posed the question like a hypothetical and Steve, not immediately catching her playful tone, assumed that she was thinking of having another kid. Helena knew that he wanted as many kids as she wished to as both were keen on having a big brood, so why was she… Oh. OH-!

“You know I would love to have another baby. Is there any reason you’re asking me this question?” Steve raised his brow curiously and Helena, unable to hold back her reaction, chewed down on her lip and placed her hand against his cheek. 

“I took the test this morning. It came back positive.” Helena smiled and she watched Steve’s face ripple between shock, pride, and joy within seconds. Despite his tender ribs and Grant sitting on his lap, Steve leaned over and started peppering Helena’s face with kisses. Laughter bubbled from her lips and she brushed her lips against his. Helena knew Steve wanted a big family with as many kids as she would let him have, which she agreed with. Helena, after losing her family throughout her life, she wanted a big family too. 

“We’re having another baby…” Steve whispered happily, and he brushed back Helena’s hair from her face. Their kids stared up at them with innocent looks and no clue what made their parents speak so excitedly. Helena would be sure to explain to them later, but she had her family to take care of.

“That we are. Now, I need you to keep an eye on these two while I fix you up something to eat that you can take with your meds… and some food for the little ones.” Helena remarked and before she disappeared into the kitchen, she leaned against the doorframe and she told Grant and Brooklyn, “Be careful with Daddy, kids. He got a boo-boo and we need to be easy on him, okay?” 

“I’ll give you a band-aid, Daddy. That always fixes my boo-boos.” Grant said as he turned to his father with wide eyes and Steve chuckled at his son’s kind offer. He might need a little more than a band-aid, but it was the thought that counted.


End file.
